💾 Archived View for tilde.town › ~mio › other › coffee.gmi captured on 2024-08-18 at 17:42:46. Gemini links have been rewritten to link to archived content

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date: 2024-03-20T20:30:00Z

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For ~rogbeer.

Coffee

It is the wind's turn today to playfully tug at his jacket and tousle his honey

locks, as if to ask why he hadn't worn his bed hair, it looks so much better on

him. He adjusts his jacket collar and tries not to appear discomfited by the

way the wind rears back to lash his cheeks, nose and the back of his hands in

humid huffs at being ignored. At the crosswalk a woman rushes past him, tote

bag on one shoulder and stainless steel mug in hand, and he remembers he hadn't

had one of those in months. Suddenly he misses the warmth amid cool air, with

only two flimsy layers of cardboard between his palm and the scalding liquid

inside. Tendrils of steam curling and clamouring to escape when he flips the

little plastic tab of the lid to release the scent of burnt beans. Maybe the

wind was also mad at him for not sharing his drinks anymore. He sighs and

stuffs his empty hands into his pockets. The rain that was supposed to be

a respite had not arrived, and the sleeves of his buttoned shirt are sticking

to his back and forearms under his jacket as he quickens his steps five minutes

away from the office building. Tomorrow, tomorrow the sun will emerge and it

could always be worse. If the rain were a solemn young woman washing away the

smog and overflowing blocked sewers, he thinks, the sun would be the

overzealous child that persuades balcony plants to grow and gives their owners

a headache and stinging burns. The second thing he remembers besides his

neighbour's thirsty flowers is that he has forgotten to bring his water bottle,

the sleek one he had splurged on to christen yet another attempt at a new

year's resolution. He never was a quitter anyway, for better or for worse. But

he certainly didn't order the shite sandwich that is El Niño, global warming,

a sweet tooth for chocolate and cream, pulling an all-nighter for a report,

oversleeping and missing breakfast on top. Just one, he reasons, as his sweaty

feet slow to a halt in front of the express café inside on the ground floor.

His future self can forgive him.